


The Grass on the Other Side of the Fence Can Go Fuck Itself

by homeslice



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homeslice/pseuds/homeslice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur does battle with a lawn mower. Eames gets hot, sweaty, and jumped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grass on the Other Side of the Fence Can Go Fuck Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Tina, Llama, and [hungerpunch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hungerpunch/pseuds/hungerpunch) for looking this over for me. I think even [gollumgollum](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gollumgollum/pseuds/gollumgollum) had a gander at the first couple of paragraphs back in April. I truly appreciate all the support!

“It’s 2-1 Arthur in a humvee, I roll down my window and I start to say ‘it’s all about me making Dom Cobb pay’ cuz the boyz in the hood are always hard, come talkin’ that trash, we’ll pull your car...” Arthur sang to himself as he untangled his legs for the 528,491st time they’d gotten wrapped up in the power cord for his mower, plotting vengeance featuring the Cobblets and “The Song That Never Ends” as he went. 

If he could get through this row without tripping, running over the cord, and generally having to stop and start five times, he’d pause for a water break as reward. Having successfully extricated his legs with an awkward hop and twist, he pulled the lever and continued on the downward turn and thought about how one of the most respected and sought after point men in the dreamshare community had come to this defeat by mower.

Cobb had guilted Arthur into buying an electric mower when Philippa was born, because apparently the gas-powered variety is worse for emissions than a car. And it had to be one with a cord rather than a battery pack because of the lead pollution from the production of the battery. “I’m a dad now, I have to think of what the world will be like for my daughter. Think of the _kids_ , Arthur! Yes, pollution makes for pretty sunsets, but I don’t want my kid getting asthma because you’re too inconvenienced by an extension cord. It’s your responsibility to minimize your carbon footprint!” If Cobb jabbed his finger in his face one more time, Arthur was buying a Hummer to spite him and his unreasonable investment in Arthur’s lawn. (The VlogBrothers video he’d sent on the evils of grass had just made Arthur want to ease Cobb’s anxiety by ripping out all the sod and putting in cacti. Problem solved.)

But he had relented because he had the kid down the street to mow for him and it was no skin off his nose if he used an electric mower. But now Arthur had come home off a job to find the kid had left for college, the height of the grass had earned him a nastygram in the mail from his homeowners’ association, and it was Arthur stuck mowing his own yard until he found a replacement. 

He was beginning to realize he had seriously underpaid the neighbor for toil and hardship.

Eventually, he had completed one section of the yard in an hour’s time, rather than the 30 minutes it should have been. How did the kid do this whole yard in an hour? At this rate, Arthur would be here two at least and he was already tired. Sure, he frequented the gym and liked to do morning runs, but this was full sun and even the balmy day was making the sweat pour off him. He slumped over to the porch and collapsed into the rocking chair before grabbing his water bottle (refillable, BPA-free, made of at least 30% recycled plastic) and chugging half of it in one go.

After all too short a while, he cracked his eyes open at the sound of a car to see Eames driving up. The asshole laughed as he walked up to the house and saw the puddle on the chair that used to be Arthur. 

“What’s this, then? Is suburbia finally doing you in? You Americans with your bloody huge gardens. I can think of much more enjoyable ways to exhaust oneself. And yes, one or two of them do in fact involve clothes, thank you, Arthur,” Eames said with a playful smile.

“Mmpf,” Arthur grunted in reply. “I submit. Give me your flat. I’m done with grass.”

“Hmm, well we can’t have that now. You stay there mowing the lawn through the force of mind alone. Won’t be a tick.”

Eames went into the house and did return before too long, changed into a pair of Arthur’s shorts and t-shirt, both of which were obscenely stretched. That is to say, everything was technically PG, but Arthur’s mind very much went into NC-17 territory. He could easily envision that t-shirt ripping at the seams, which should be hilarious and Hulk-like, but only made Arthur want to lick the beads of sweat that were already making their way down Eames’s golden neck, following that thick sternocleidomastoid down to those unbelievable deltoids with his tongue. 

“What are you doing,” Arthur said flatly because it really wasn’t a question. He could see what Eames was planning, but something had to be said.

“Having a go at the mowing, of course. It’s quite alright, Arthur; you can thank me when I’m done.”

Arthur lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and figured he’d give Eames fair warning. “Watch out for the cord.”

As Eames walked over to where Arthur had left the mower in his fit of aggravation, Arthur sat up a little bit straighter from his slump to see how Eames progressed with the infernal thing. It really was a win-win: either Eames struggled with the cord as much as Arthur had and Arthur would get a nice dose of schadenfreude, or Eames would divine the secret and Arthur could watch and learn. Plus, there was the view. So he’d sit back and enjoy the proceedings, still slurping from his water bottle to stave off the dehydration headache threatening on top of everything.

Eames knelt down next to the machine and fiddled with a lever on the side. Arthur had the vague impression it controlled the height of the blades, but hadn’t really experimented with it. Eames seemed satisfied with whatever adjustment he’d made and stepped behind the mower, turning it so the cord was behind him. He pulled the engine lever and started walking. 

Already he seemed to be having an easier time of the pushing; Arthur guessed he had raised the blades and that the grass clippings weren’t jamming up as much. Arthur had had to lift the front end a couple of times to clear the blades, but he hadn’t thought it was causing that much trouble. Eames was still bothered by the cord, at least.

It had started out behind him, but was in his path just as it had been for Arthur when Eames made the turn for the opposite direction. _Ha_ , thought Arthur. Eames flipped it over to the other side and continued on. _Well yeah, but do it every time for the next 20 minutes and see how nonchalant about it you are then_. 

Eames continued to do it for the next 20 minutes seemingly without much irritation, before stopping for a water break. A water break that got Arthur all hot and bothered again, but for entirely different reasons.

It’s not as if Eames was playing up the porn act, showering himself with water and tossing his head back or anything so ridiculous. No, he merely stopped the mower and picked up the water bottle he had stuck under the bush in an effort to keep it shaded and cool and took a drink. Nothing overacted, but something in Arthur still snapped at the sight. Maybe it was the tight clothes that were absolutely plastered with sweat and the way the shorts hugged his ass when he leant over to the side (not even in Arthur’s direct line of sight). But Arthur was still willing to bet Eames knew exactly the effect it would have on him and Arthur couldn’t care less. 

He jumped him.

Or rather, he got up while Eames was still distracted with downing the water, until he was right in front of him and Eames quirked an eyebrow and gave a hesitant, “Arthur?”

Arthur just smiled, put both hands on Eames’s shoulders, leaned in, and licked that bit of skin that had been teasing him since Eames walked out of the house. From t-shirt collar to the soft part behind his ear, Arthur savored the salty skin and nibbled the tender earlobe as Eames gave a startled moan.

And Arthur was on the ground before he knew what hit him, with Eames on top of him, attacking his mouth with his plush lips and drawing out moans of his own from Arthur. Hands brushed along waistbands and under shirts, tingling skin and ridding overheated, writhing bodies of confining clothes. Skin finally touched skin, as they came up for air, Arthur pulling at Eames’s lip as they broke apart, not wanting to stop. 

As they lay there panting, they seemed to silently come to the mutual agreement to slow down, as they both traced the glistening skin on biceps and pectorals, abdomens and deltoids, almost languidly kissing after their initial frenzy.

Arthur’s hands continued their path down Eames’s back to find themselves skimming under his waistband, palming his ass, and bringing their hips closer together. Eames, for his part, joined in this new plan with vigor, grabbing Arthur’s arms to hold on before bucking his hips and causing their cocks to rub through their shorts with delicious friction.

They got a rhythm going, speeding up as their nerve endings sparked and they came in quick succession. They drew apart as they caught their breath, Eames kissing Arthur’s eyebrow with a grin, Arthur smiling his own stupid grin, knowing his dimples were on full display and not caring a bit. Anyway, he knew Eames loved them. Eames grabbed Arthur’s hand and traced the lines in his palm, humming contentedly. 

Lying on the loathsome grass some time later, feeling sated and a bit less resentful of the world as a whole with their hands linked, Arthur couldn’t help but ruin it by turning his head. Eames, of course, picked up on where Arthur was looking next door.

“The grass is always greener, hmm Arthur?”

“The grass on the other side of the fence can go fuck itself,” Arthur said and turned his attention back to sowing some wild oats instead.

**Author's Note:**

> [Dat sternocleidomastoid](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_loz15efguU1qb00c3o1_r2_1280.png). Thanks for reading!


End file.
